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“Ah,” Tony said mysteriously. “Just running some errands in town.” He collared a passing waiter and ordered some more tea for himself.
Becky resisted the urge to ask about his errands for approximately three minutes. “What errands?”
Tony shrugged and accepted his tea from the waiter, peering into the tiny cup and looking perplexed. “Just taking another look around the place. Searching for potential. You know, once the casino’s up and running, there’s a lot more we could do here.”
We. A warm flush spread through Becky’s body. He’d said we. She shouldn’t be so pleased about that.
Tony relaxed back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. “I could see myself sticking around this old town, given the right sort of persuasion.”
His eyes were on hers, watching her every expression, and Becky tried to keep the confusion from her face, leaving only polite surprise. It would seem she managed it, because Tony gave a small nod and bent forward again to help himself to another rock cake. “I’ve been up to see the cottage on the cliff,” he said, shredding the rock cake with his hands and stuffing a smaller piece in his mouth. “The one Charlie’s doing up. Could be something when it’s finished, I reckon.
“So it got me thinking. StarFish isn’t a bad plot. If you focused on local produce, organic stuff–all the sort of things the wealthy tourists like and, more importantly, are willing to pay for–it could be quite a money spinner. Somewhere to take the wife after a long day at the casino.”
“You want to help Charlie?” Becky asked, still confused. Tony always had an angle, but for the life of her she couldn’t see it this time. Shouldn’t he be annoyed at her going back to her ex? She’d thought he’d at least care. Apparently not.
Tony shook his head at her and smiled, the smile he always gave her when she hadn’t quite grasped something that should be very obvious. She hated that smile. It made her feel slow and dull, rather than the quick and beautiful woman she saw in the mirror every morning.
“I’ve never owned a restaurant before,” he said. “I thought it might be fun. Something to do while you’re running the casino.”
Becky took a moment to try to absorb what he was saying. Then Tony leaned in and moved aside the cake stand between them and said plainly, “I’ve got an offer for you. But I’m not going to wait around for an answer on this one.” He paused, and Becky held her breath for a long moment before he went on. “I’ll buy out Charlie, get you the restaurant and the cottage, along with the casino. We both know they’re what you really want anyway. But.” Because there was always a but, wasn’t there? “You have to commit to me.”
“You want me to marry you?” Becky asked, her voice squeaking unattractively. “Because that wasn’t much of a proposal.”
“I’ll give you a better one when it’s time,” Tony promised. “Ring and everything. All I want for now is your word.”
Becky blinked and tried to weigh her options objectively. Tony had money, enough to ensure her a place as a big fish in town, especially with the restaurant and the casino. The cottage could be a lovely home, really, once it was done up properly, with real taste. With Tony’s investment, she could be the one to put Aberarian on the map. Make the town grateful.
But she wouldn’t have Charlie.
And that was what she’d come back for, wasn’t it? The whole reason for being here. So why was she even imagining Tony’s ring on her finger?
“No,” she said, the word out of her mouth before she’d really even come to a decision in her head.
Tony sat back, arms crossed over his chest and his eyebrows raised with surprise. “Why? Charlie? You know he’s in love with someone else.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Becky said.
“Charlie’s in love with Mia. Not that she’s noticed yet. They’re a slow pair. And you think that means you still have a chance.” Tony chuckled and gave her an indulgent smile.
“Haven’t you figured it out yet?” he asked, getting to his feet. He moved to stand behind her and Becky’s skin prickled feeling him so close. Leaning down over her shoulder, he whispered in her ear, making her jump. “It’s me you’re in love with, darling. But I won’t wait forever for you to admit it.”
Then he was gone, and Becky took a shaky breath, fighting the urge to run far, far away from Aberarian.
Chapter 13
It was lucky, really, that Mia had so much to do. Otherwise she might have spent more time debating with herself about her father. As it was, she was far too busy.
“Do you think we should change these pictures?” Susan asked, hands on her hips, staring at the severe black and white visage of Katherine Hepburn. “Put up something more...modern.”
“Absolutely not.” Mia looked up from where she was scrubbing the baseboards of the box office with water, fairy liquid, and a vague memory of their original color. “They’re classic. They stay.”
Susan didn’t look convinced, but she shrugged and started dusting Katherine anyway. “You’re probably right. Walt would never forgive me, anyway.”
“Too right.” Walt had an unholy crush on Katherine. They watched The Philadelphia Story at least once a month at the midnight movies. Charlie had started reciting along with the film, these days.
But she wasn’t thinking about Charlie. Or her father. She was thinking about the Coliseum and how to make it beautiful again.
“I’ve got Magic Carpets coming in to see if they can do anything with the floors.” Susan rubbed the toe of her sensible brown leather sandal against a sticky black stain on the carpet. “Although we might want to look into rugs.”
“No one will be looking at the floors,” Mia assured her. “Not once we’ve got the rest of this place sparkling.”
Satisfied the base of the box office had probably always been red and cream, not white, Mia turned her attention to the counter and the antiquated ticket machine that spat out tiny paper rectangles reading “Admit One” without specifying what the admittance was to, or even what sort of a one should be admitted.
“How’s Walt?” she asked, and cringed while waiting for the answer.
Susan gave a world-weary sigh. “He’s still pretending it’s hopeless. It’s all over and life has lost its meaning. But it’s just an act.”
“Oh? How can you know?” Because last time Mia had seen Walt, he’d looked like a man who’d given up.
“I’m his wife,” Susan said. “I know these things.”
Even after detailed study of the A to Z of Love book, Mia wasn’t convinced by this.
Then Susan added, “Besides, I found a copy of Smuggler’s Rest on the kitchen table this morning. He might be protecting himself by telling himself there’s no chance, but secretly he’s hoping and praying for us.”
“Well, I’ll take all the prayers we can get,” Mia said, feeling a little lighter. “And I’ll definitely take the film.”
“Actually, I think Walt might have been to see your dad last night.” Susan wasn’t looking at her, Mia realized when she looked up, surprised. Instead, the older woman was focusing very hard on Clark Gable’s portrait, even though Mia couldn’t see a speck of dust left on it. “Maybe that’s what changed his mind.”
“He told you that?” Mia asked, an anxious, uncertain feeling growing in her chest.
Susan shrugged. “Oh, no. But he disappeared yesterday evening, and I know he wasn’t in the Fox because I asked Jonny. So there’s only one other place I could think he might be.”
Mia didn’t even know where her father was staying. At the Grand, she supposed. She knew Charlie had put him up the first night, because Becky had made a point of telling her. But she couldn’t imagine even Charlie’s kind nature allowing George Page to sleep on his sofa for more than one night.
“He wouldn’t tell me, of course,” Susan went on, still studying Clark. “He’d be sure I wouldn’t approve.”
The feeling in Mia’s chest grew tighter, and she had to force out her words. “Wo
uld you?”
Susan turned to face her. “Probably not,” she said, her eyes knowing. “But George was a very good friend to Walt for many years. I might not approve of what he did, but I’m not sure it completely changes who he was. Or is.” Susan turned to the next poster, duster in hand. “Don’t forget, we never did find out the whole story.”
And they never would. Not if Mia didn’t ask.
* * * *
“If you’re here to try to convince me to talk to my father,” Mia said, glaring at Charlie as he hovered in the doorway the next day, “you should know, you’re not the first. And don’t think I don’t know where he stayed the other night, either. Becky’s already been around to casually mention how kind it is of you, putting up an old man in your tiny flat.” And hadn’t that been a fun visit. Nothing Mia liked better in her day than some good old fashioned patronizing. Becky was just lucky Ditsy had been busy in the back room at the time.
“Uh, actually.” Charlie stepped forward, letting the door close behind him. “I’m just here to take you up to Felinfach. To the craft place.” He paused for a moment while Mia stared at him, trying to remember why those words sounded familiar. “Like you asked me to,” he finished, and Mia’s memory started working again. Apparently lack of proximity to Charlie–including missing their traditional Saturday night tasting and movie–made her brain work slower.
“The craft mill! Yes. Of course.” Because, her theory went, people who made stuff for a living must always be looking for new places to sell their bits and bobs. Like a festival in a pretty seaside town with lots of tourists. Hopefully. “Sorry,” she added a bit belatedly as she gathered up her coat and bag.
“Ditsy?” Mia called into the storeroom and waited for her boss to reappear.
“You off to Felinfach?” Ditsy asked, sticking her head into the shop, followed eventually by the rest of her floral-clad body. Mia tried not to feel bad that even Ditsy had remembered what she was supposed to be doing, and failed.
“Apparently so. I’ll be back in time to cash up, though.”
